


a comfort (of frailties in me)

by flan (bitehard)



Series: twin suns [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Face-Fucking, M/M, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 09:48:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28349424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitehard/pseuds/flan
Summary: He desires Kenobi as much as he wants to ruin him, the lines blurred and dirty like the time he spent in the darkness.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Maul
Series: twin suns [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2136042
Comments: 22
Kudos: 86





	a comfort (of frailties in me)

**Author's Note:**

> title from sea castle by purity ring.
> 
> Thanks, once again, to [earwen_neruda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/earwen_neruda/) for the betaing, the cheerleading, the drunk talks,
> 
> and for everything.

It has happened again, and Maul has lost the count, if he's being honest. There is something already sad about the fact that he enjoys it, but it’s worse that he longs for it, waits for the presence to appear, for his Force to call to Maul’s. 

At the moment, though, Maul is not thinking about that; he is just glad he can’t feel pain in the knees anymore. He has been in the same posture for the last twenty minutes, at least, and if the jedi fucking his mouth wanted he would be for another twenty and wouldn’t mind it a bit.

Kenobi’s hands don’t let him to move his head and Maul opens his mouth to allow his cock to reach deeper, until he cannot breathe and he cannot think about anything else, just Kenobi and his fingers caressing the side of his neck as if he wanted to feel his own cock through the skin. Maul never asks him to stop, but he always does it just before it’s too much anyway; Maul hates that he knows him, or his Force, to this point. 

He gasps for air, still with his mouth full, the weight on his tongue, eyes closed remembering the feeling. Kenobi calls for his attention with a “hey” brimming with a softness that scratches Maul’s insides like sandpaper, but he is just too spent to retaliate. It’s always like this and Maul needs to stop but he is, kark, so weak when Kenobi appears wherever he is, not with the intention to fight, of course, because that’s Maul’s job. 

Maul moves his head back for a moment, swallowing and cleaning the spit from his mouth in Kenobi’s robes.

“I’m fine”, he says, voice raw, and he means it. Nothing matters here, inside this room on a planet where no one would care about a jedi and a sith fucking. It’s what they do or, to be fair, it’s more like Kenobi fucks him and then fucks him up, and Maul just tries to ignore what this means in the greater scheme of fate.

He touches the rim of one of his horns lightly and Maul not only lets him, he just moves his head so he can direct his fingers to the exact point he likes them. It’s not like Kenobi needs it at this point, though, it’s been a long time and Maul remembers every waking moment the second he saw the understanding on Kenobi’s eyes, he said “so this was it, all this time, what you wanted” and Maul _didn’t_ know he wanted it but, well. Maybe Kenobi does know him more than he knows himself because it really was.

It was messy, and more tender than it should be. Too tender for Maul, who would have preferred that Kenobi just took what he obviously thought was his, but he always made him ask, and Maul tried not to, really, but he never was had been too keen on repressing his desires. 

And he desires Kenobi, as much as he wants to ruin him, the lines blurred and dirty like the time he spent in the darkness. 

“What do you want?”, he asks, and Maul thinks, _your downfall_ , and _I want to forget you,_ but says “fuck you, Kenobi”, and Kenobi laughs. 

It always rubs him the wrong way how he is able to laugh like that, like he isn’t committing treason not only to the Republic but also to the Jedi order, like it doesn’t matter. 

“Come on, Maul, we’ve been over this, you have to ask. Unless you really want to fuck me, which”, he ponders for a second and then he smiles and Maul should really kill him because he says, “could be arranged”, and he drags his fingers through the base of his neck, where his pulse is, just the exact pressure so Maul can feel it but not enough to leave him without breath. “Do they hurt?”, he says, and touches the metal on Maul’s thigh lightly with his toe. He feels it, he feels everything, but not the pain. 

“How could they?”, Maul answers, anger dripping into his voice, and grunts when the foot reaches up to the place between his two robotic legs. Closing his eyes, he tries to remember his actual thighs, knees, feet, for a second. It doesn’t hurt but the Force helps to be aware of his foot, bare against the metal. He should be feeling the cold, although Maul feels warm creeping from his chest to his neck. Kenobi is looking at him, and presses. 

“Do you feel it?” and Maul’s skin prickles when hearing the sound of that voice like that: low and intimate and for him. 

Kenobi pushes harder, just a little more and Maul almost tastes the pain that it’s not there, as if the Force Kenobi is releasing at him could make him whole again. He imagines, for a second, what would have been if he _were_ whole, if Kenobi could take him with both his hands and let Maul fuck his fists, letting the come drip from his fingers.

He would like to mark Kenobi back as he does with him, sometimes. They do it anyway, by other means, by scratches and bites and pain and memories. 

Their energies connect, and this is what always makes him come back, come back to him. The idea that he is not alone it’s liberating, even for a second, a minute, an hour while they fuck or fight or just reach for each other when they shouldn’t. This is what Maul grew up with: two of them, not one, not him alone, not his Force reaching out to nothingness. It’s like he is made from skin again, like the fall and the death on Naboo didn’t happen, like fifteen years alone were instead a second.

At first Maul thought that It started when they started this, this treason to all they should both be, but he has come to believe it was always there, at least for him, after what Kenobi did to him. Fate made him stay alive but this was the price to pay: the only way to not feel alone in the Force seems to be connecting with the one he hates the most. And he wants to kill him, sure, or even something better, he wants to make him suffer, he would certainly enjoy to feed off the dissappearance of all that love that Kenobi has for everyone but him.

He can feel it now, and has been thinking about it the last times they have seen each other: there is something wrong with Kenobi. There is something that is _poisoning_ Kenobi’s energy, like a disease. Maul doesn’t know many things, but he knows this: Kenobi’s energy is always direct, clean, like a hit to the heart. It may be full of rage, like in Naboo, or confusion, or pain, but his goal is always clear, he has an inherent _light_ in him that most of the time Maul hates but sometimes he revels on, like a poor man would do when encountering the fortune of a king, like watching something impossible come true. 

There is something _wrong_ with Kenobi, and it’s his, and not his. Maul feels like watching two people behind the same face. 

“Say, Maul”, he insists, and then changes the approach, “do you feel _me_?”, and that's the problem.

“I feel…”, Maul starts, but doesn’t know how to end it. He closes and opens his eyes while breathing deeply for a minute, and notices when Kenobi finishes taking off his clothes. “I feel like there is something different.” 

Kenobi is taking him to the bad excuse of a bed in the corner, and looks at him, puzzled. “How different?”

Maul wants to say the truth: he needs to be protected from something way, way worse than Maul.

“Like there is something that’s not yours. Like I should kill it”. _Like you’re a danger to the galaxy._

Kenobi doesn’t get it and laughs a little. “How is that different from what you want to do to me?”, he says, and then, “You may try, but I would prefer it if you did it _after_ we leave the room. I’ve already paid for it”. 

Maul shakes his head, because he doesn’t know how to explain it. He wants to ask, stupidly, “how many sith are you in contact with?” because what he feels (anger, mostly, but power too, an ambition that he _knows_ is not Kenobi’s) feels so dark even he himself could be in danger. 

Kenobi licks his lips and searches for clues in his eyes, and Maul feels vulnerable under the scrutiny. Maul doesn’t lie, for the most part; he is too impatient to make big plans of manipulation and he guesses that’s one of the reasons his Master always despised him. But, with Kenobi, he usually doesn’t even try. The jedi reads him like a book and the only way to deceive him is to corner him, make him come to Maul. 

Kenobi swallows hard, as if he sees something that frightens him for a second, or maybe he understands who he is talking about; but the feeling disappears as fast as it came and Kenobi says “So, are you going to kill me? Or are you going to come?”, and Maul looks at him, sat on the edge of the bed, hands on knees, waiting and open and soft and pretty and so terribly infuriating as he always has been.

It’s inevitable.

Maul hungers for him, so Maul goes. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm **youbitehard** @ tumblr talk to me about your maul agenda pls.


End file.
